aclotma  of 


lamnanansKrrc 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

From  the  collection  of 
MRS.  ALFRED  EHRMAN 


EMMA  AND   ALFRED 

E  H  KM  AN 


THE    MADONNA 
OF   SACRIFICE 


BOOKS   BY  MR.   ORCUTT 

The  Madonna  of  Sacrifice.  A  Story 

of  Florence 
The  Moth.    A  Novel 
The  Lever.    A  Novel 
The  Spell.    A  Novel 
The  Flower  of  Destiny.    A  Novel 
Robert  Cavelier.    A  Novel 
Princess  Kallisto.    And  other  Tales 

of  the  Fairies 
Good  Old  Dorchester.    A  Narrative 

History 
The  Writer's  Desk-Book 


•    71ORGIVE,  forgive!  "  he  faintly  murmured. 
I    For  the  last  time  he  raised  himself,  direct- 
ing his  dimmed  eyes  toward  the  frame 
which  had  always  enclosed  his  Madonna. 

[Page  49] 


THE    MADONNA 
SACRIFICE 

A   STORY   OF   FLORENCE 

BY 
WILLIAM   DANA   ORGUTT 

Frontispiece  bg  Gertrude  Demain  Hammond 


CHICAGO 

F.     G.     BROWNE    &    CO. 
1913 


COPYRIGHT,    1913 
BY   F.   G.    BROWNE  &   CO. 


All  rights  reserved 
Copyright  in  England 


PUBLISHED,   FEBRUARY,    1913 


THE -PLIMPTON -PRESS 

{W-D-Oj 
NORWOOD-MA  SS-U-S'A 


THE    MADONNA 
OF   SACRIFICE 


The 
Madonna  ^Sacrifice 

TT^OFO  rose  guiltily  from  the 
-*-  marvelously-carved  old  prie- 
Dieu  as  he  heard  the  sound  of 
approaching  footsteps,  wondering 
if  the  impression  of  his  elbows, 
left  behind  in  the  luxurious  velvet 
cushions,  would  betray  the  great 
liberty  he  had  taken.  Safe  he 
was  from  discovery  he  knew,  for 
at  this  time  in  the  day  the  shadows 
became  heavy  in  the  little  chapel 
of  the  Palazzo  Orcagna,  illumined 
as  it  was  only  by  the  flickering 

[3] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

light  which  shone  intermittently 
from  the  two  tiny  silver  lamps, 
ever  burning  before  the  Madonna 
of  Sacrifice.  The  picture  hung 
directly  above  the  small  altar;  at 
the  left  stood  the  life-size  Ecce 
Homo,  of  wood  and  stucco.  Times 
without  number  had  Fofo  knelt 
before  the  Madonna  during  the 
years  which  had  elapsed  since  first 
he  entered  the  Orcagna  household, 
and  when  on  his  twelfth  birthday 
his  duties  were  made  to  include 
those  of  acolyte,  tending  the  candles 
and  supplying  the  wine  for  the 
mass,  he  rejoiced;  for  he  knew 
that  it  must  have  been  his  own 
dear  Lady  who  had  that  day  chosen 
him  to  be  her  attendant,  as  to 

[4] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

her  alone  was  given  knowledge  of 
the  anniversary. 

IN  those  days  mass  was  regularly 
said  in  the  little  chapel  of  the 
Orcagnas,  but  since  the  beautiful 
Donna  Giulia  had  left  it  two  years 
before,  as  the  bride  of  the  hand- 
some Barone,  the  acolyte  had  been 
required  to  don  his  cassock  and 
surplice  only  at  rare  intervals. 
Fofo  missed  this  sadly.  The  chapel 
was  to  him  the  only  real  home  he 
had  ever  known,  and  the  Madonna 
of  Sacrifice  his  nearest  mother. 
So  it  was  that  each  moment  he 
could  steal  from  his  household 
duties  was  passed  in  her  sweet 
companionship,  and  the  service 

[51 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

which  he  rendered  in  the  chapel 
was  to  her  rather  than  to  the 
padrone  di  casa,  the  Marquis  d' 
Orcagna. 


[E  might  have  thought  that 
it  was  not  well  for  a  youth  whose 
frail  body  could  scarce  endure  his 
daily  labors  to  spend  so  much  of 
his  time  in  this  damp,  sunless 
chapel.  They  might  indeed  be 
even  more  persuaded  could  they 
have  noted  the  changes  which  had 
taken  place  in  Fofo  since  his  young 
mistress  had  gone  to  her  new  home. 
The  little  acolyte  had  lengthened 
out  until  his  blue,  homespun  blouse 
came  down  only  to  the  hips,  and 
his  loose  trousers  failed  to  touch 

[6] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

his  ankles.  His  deep,  brown  eyes, 
always  the  most  prominent  part 
of  his  face,  seemed  now  even  larger 
and  more  wistful,  since  the  face 
had  become  thinner  and  more  wan, 
and  the  hair  grew  unheeded  almost 
to  his  shoulders.  The  Donna  Giulia 
would  have  heeded  it,  but  the  Mar- 
quis was  too  preoccupied.  Fofo 
moved  so  quietly  about  the  house, 
and  attended  so  faithfully  to  his 
duties,  that  the  master  did  not 
notice  him.  But  no  one  there  was 
who  would  have  denied  him  the 
blessed  privilege  of  kneeling  to  his 
dear  Lady.  He  longed  to  do  more 
than  merely  bend  his  knee  and  mur- 
mur the  familiar  words  to  which 
his  lips  had  become  accustomed. 

[7] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

Today,  as  his  eye  caught  sight  of 
the  volume  resting  on  the  prie-Dieu, 
left  there  by  the  last  member  of 
the  household  who  had  preceded 
him,  he  had  yielded  to  a  great 
temptation.  The  Madonna  must 
be  as  wearied  as  he  at  hearing  the 
one  single  prayer  which  he  had 
repeated  to  her  over  and  over, 
how  many  times  he  could  not  say. 
If  he  might  kneel  to  his  beloved 
mistress  with  his  eyes  upon  the 
book  resting  before  him,  perhaps 
he  could  frame  a  new  prayer  with 
the  lips  as  if  his  eyes  had  learned 
it  from  the  book,  and  she  would 
forgive  his  shallow  pretense  be- 
cause of  the  added  homage  which 
his  act  had  paid  her. 

[8] 


THE   MADONNA    of  SACRIFICE 

11  IS  eyes  did  not  remain  long 
upon  the  book.  Nothing  could 
keep  them  from  gazing  into  the 
depths  of  those  glorious  orbs,  radi- 
ating at  him  from  the  sublimely 
beautiful  face  of  the  Madonna. 
For  centuries  the  wonderful  crea- 
tion of  the  great  master  had  hung 
there,  greeting  each  new  genera- 
tion of  the  Orcagnas  with  a  loving 
welcome  which  endured  up  to  the 
time  when  they  in  turn  required 
her  sympathy  and  consolation. 
Strangers  came  from  far-away 
countries,  counting  it  a  rare' priv- 
ilege to  see  her,  and  she  had  been 
coveted  for  every  great  collection; 
yet  Fofd  knew  how  jealously  the 

[9] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

sweet  Madonna  saved  her  real  ex- 
pression for  him  and  for  those  of 
the  household  to  whom  it  rightfully 
belonged. 

ITE  watched  the  shadows  deepen, 
changing  from  purple  into  gray. 
The  great  silver  candle-sticks,  the 
Orcagna  coat-of-arms  emblazoned 
upon  the  tapestries,  the  heavy 
carved  chairs,  —  all  faded  away, 
but  the  face  of  the  dear  Madonna 
smiled  upon  him,  and  listened  ap- 
provingly to  the  new  prayer  which 
he  brokenly  delivered  in  her  honor. 
Fof6  had  no  right  to  kneel  at  the 
carved  desk,  and  it  was  his  con- 
science rather  than  his  ears  which 
first  detected  the  approaching  foot- 

[10] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

steps.  As  they  came  nearer,  Fof6 
knew  them  to  be  his  master's, 
and  his  heart  beat  so  violently 
that  he  feared  it  might  bring  on 
that  paroxysm  of  coughing  which 
he  had  learned  to  dread,  and  thus 
disclose  his  hiding-place.  The  pro- 
tecting shadows  hung  heavily  about 
the  pillar  behind  which  he  stood; 
the  Madonna  had  not  reproved 
him  for  his  daring.  Courage 
entered  Fofd's  heart.  The  master 
might  speak  harshly  to  him,  he 
might  even  order  him  to  be  flogged, 
but  what  matter  so  long  as  the 
dear  Madonna  had  not  refused 
him  her  ever-comforting  smile,  to 
which  naught  else  in  Fofo's  life 
compared ! 

Hi] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

1  HE  Marquis  entered  the  little 
chapel.  No  one  could  help  admir- 
ing the  tall,  straight  figure,  un- 
touched as  yet  by  time,  and  the 
handsome  face,  which  portrayed 
the  fire  and  pride  of  the  artist  and, 
yet  again,  of  the  patrician.  For 
the  Orcagnas  inherited  the  artistic 
feeling  of  their  great  ancestor, 
whose  marvelous  shrine,  designed 
by  him,  and  fashioned  after  ten 
years'  labor,  —  the  expression  his 
soul  demanded  of  his  hand,  — 
is  still  shown  to  admiring  throngs 
in  Florence  at  the  Orsanmichele 
as  one  of  the  jewels  of  lavishly- 
bedecked  Italy.  To  the  fame  of 
the  House  of  Orcagna  later  gener- 

[12] 


THE    MADONNA    of   SACRIFICE 

ations  had  added  fortune,  trans- 
mitting both  to  its  posterity. 

-T  OFO'S  watchful  eyes  detected 
a  shadow  resting  upon  his  master's 
face  which  was  not  cast  there  by 
the  fast-gathering  twilight.  He 
had  noticed  it  before,  yet  it  had 
not  impressed  him  as  it  did  today. 
What  more  natural  than  that 
the  father's  heart  be  saddened  by 
the  loneliness  which  came  into 
the  household  when  the  beautiful 
Donna  Giulia  had  left  it  on  her 
wedding  day?  Still,  the  memory 
of  the  festival,  Fof 6  thought,  should 
be  a  comfort  to  the  Marquis,  for 
its  sumptuousness  had  been  a  seven- 
days'  wonder  even  in  Florence, 

[13] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

which  city  has  witnessed  so  many 
regal  nuptials.  Pride  alone  should 
have  solaced  him,  for  the  dowry, 
given  by  the  Marquis  with  his 
daughter,  was  said  to  equal  a 
prince's  ransom,  — in  keeping  with 
the  precedents  of  the  House  of 
Orcagna.  Fofo  himself  had  been 
permitted  to  see  the  rich  necklet 
of  diamonds,  rubies  and  pearls, 
the  hood  and  the  net  for  the  fair 
Donna  Giulia's  hair,  both  gener- 
ously interwoven  with  pearls,  the 
great  pieces  of  cloth,  —  satins,  vel- 
vets and  damasks,  —  embroidered 
cushions,  belts,  purses,  thimbles, 
needlecases,  ivory  combs,  together 
with  beaten  silverware  of  every 
description.  But  the  one  present 

[14] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

which  he  had  gazed  at,  with  greater 
interest  even  than  the  marvelous 
illuminated  missal  with  the  silver 
clasps,  had  been  the  infant  Jesus 
in  wax,  wearing  a  damask  dress 
trimmed  with  pearls.  This,  he  felt 
certain,  though  he  dare  not  ask, 
was  the  present  from  the  Madonna 
of  Sacrifice,  intended  by  her  to 
serve  as  a  reminder  that  she  still 
watched  over  her  beloved  daughter. 

Jr  OFO  was  wrong.  Not  even  the 
memory  of  this  wonderful  wedding 
could  serve  to  lighten  the  loneli- 
ness of  the  Marquis,  living  by 
himself,  the  last  of  the  Orcagnas, 
in  the  great  palazzo  which  bore  the 
honored  name.  The  boy  wondered 

[15] 


THE   MADONNA    of  SACRIFICE 

why  it  was,  under  these  circum- 
stances, that  his  master  spent  so 
much  more  of  his  time  at  home 
than  formerly,  and  why  he  no 
longer  invited  his  friends  to  keep 
him  company.  In  the  old  days 
the  Marquis  was  ever  the  center 
of  all  that  went  on  in  pleasure- 
loving  Florence,  and  his  figure 
moved  familiarly  on  the  Bourse 
and  at  the  races.  Now  he  seemed 
to  shun  the  friends  and  the  places 
which  had  previously  welcomed 
him,-  and  this  at  a  time  when  he 
would  naturally  most  have  needed 
them.  Fofo  felt  a  pang  when  he 
saw  the  change  which  had  recently 
been  wrought  in  that  noble  face: 
the  eyes  lacked  their  former  fire, 

[16] 


THE    MADONNA    of   SACRIFICE 

new  lines  had  come  in  the  cheeks; 
the  white  mustachios  curled  up- 
ward, as  always,  it  is  true,  but  the 
lips  beneath  them  quivered  as  if 
in  pain.  For  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  Fofo  dared,  even  in  his 
thoughts,  to  pity  his  master.  It 
was  right  that  he  should  come  to 
the  chapel  to  repeat  a  Pater  Noster 
or  an  Ave  Maria  to  the  blessed 
Madonna,  who  would  surely  com- 
fort him;  still  the  guilty  thought 
came  back  to  Fofo  that  when 
the  Marquis  knelt  to  seek  his 
consolation,  he  would  perhaps 
recognize  the  identity  of  those 
freshly-made  elbowmarks  upon 
the  velvet  cushions. 


17 


THE   MADONNA   of   SACRIFICE 

1  0  Fofo's  amazement,  the  Mar- 
quis stepped  quickly  by  the  prie- 
Dieu,  and  passed  to  a  position 
directly  in  front  of  the  Madonna. 
He  did  this  without  even  crossing 
himself.  This  to  the  boy  was  terri- 
fying. Then  the  master  folded  his 
arms  and  gazed  long  at  the  picture. 
His  strong,  erect  body  quivered 
from  time  to  time  with  an  emotion 
inexplicable  to  Fofo,  finally  cul- 
minating in  a  soul-wracking  groan 
which  made  the  echoes  ring  in  the 
little  chapel,  so  frightening  Fofo 
that  he  nearly  disclosed  his  hiding- 
place. 

"I  have  made  my  sacrifice  for 
her,  beata,"  he  murmured.     "This 

[18] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

is  a  house  of  sacrifice,  and  you,  its 
protectress,  must  bear  your  share. 
Yet  the  palazzo  of  the  Orcagnas 
will  be  desolated  without  you." 

OTRANGE  words  indeed,  the 
boy  thought,  repeating  them  to 
himself.  Of  course  it  was  a  house 
of  sacrifice,  as  must  every  house 
be  which  loves  the  dear  Christ; 
and  the  Madonna  herself  was  the 
symbol  of  sacrifice.  Strange  words 
indeed! 

At  length  the  master  turned, 
and  rapidly  left  the  chapel.  With 
the  security  given  by  the  sound  of 
the  retiring  footsteps,  Fofo  came 
out  from  his  retreat,  standing  be- 
fore the  Madonna  where  the  Mar- 

[19] 


THE   MADONNA    of  SACRIFICE 

quis  had  stood,  and  gazed  into  her 
face  silently  asking  an  explanation. 
Before  this  could  be  given,  Fofo 
heard  the  master  returning,  this 
time  accompanied  by  another. 


ROM  the  same  hiding-place  Fofo 
saw  the  two  men  enter  the  chapel. 
He  who  accompanied  the  padrone 
was  evidently  an  artist,  for  he 
brought  with  him  his  box  of  colors 
and  his  easel.  Fofo  could  not  hear 
all  the  words  the  Marquis  spoke, 
but  from  the  gestures  he  could 
easily  understand  that  this  painter 
was  to  reproduce  the  Madonna  of 
Sacrifice.  A  flood  welled  up  in 
Fofo's  heart.  His  blessed  Lady 
was  to  be  counterfeited!  Sacrile- 

[20] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

gious  eyes  were  to  be  permitted  to 
gaze  upon  her  substitute!  The 
master  must  be  mad;  always  until 
now  he  had  relentlessly  denied 
petitions  made  for  copies  of  the 
masterpiece.  This  Fofo  knew,  for 
he  had  overheard  many  such 
requests. 

"Can  you  make  a  replica  so 
close  that  as  it  hangs  here  it  will, 
in  any  light,  appear  the  same?" 
Fofo  heard  the  Marquis  ask. 

"Si,  signore"  the  little  painter 
answered  with  confidence.  "If  I 
cannot  do  it,  then  it  cannot  be 
done." 

"Bene"  the  Marquis  continued 
curtly,  turning  abruptly  as  if 
anxious  to  end  the  interview. 

[21] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

"You   shall    begin  tomorrow.     A 
domani" 

"A  domani"  repeated  the  artist, 
"and  a  rivederla"  he  added  to  the 
back  of  the  retreating  figure,  which 
made  no  response. 

1  HE  little  painter  took  possession 
of  the  chapel  and,  deeming  himself 
alone,  indulged  in  certain  liberties 
which  would  have  been  unthought 
of  had  he  known  of  the  jealous 
eyes  which  followed  his  every  move- 
ment from  behind  the  shadow- 
shrouded  pillar.  It  was  too  late 
to  begin  his  work  that  day,  but 
all  could  be  gotten  in  readiness  for 
the  morrow.  Fofo  watched  him 
move  aside  the  prie-Dieu,  and 

122] 


THE   MADONNA    of   SACRIFICE 

place  his  easel  in  the  very  spot 
where  the  beautiful  Donna  Giulia 
had  so  often  pressed  her  knees; 
he  saw  him  lift  the  Ecce  Homo 
bodily,  and  place  it  one  side  as  if 
it  had  been  no  more  than  an  ordi- 
nary block  of  wood.  How  was 
it,  Fofo  asked  himself,  that  a  shaft 
from  Heaven  did  not  avenge  the 
sacrilege?  Ought  he  not  to  make 
himself  God's  instrument?  Fofo 
looked  to  his  blessed  Lady  for 
instructions.  Her  face  taught  him 
his  presumption.  Her  eyes  were 
full,  almost  to  overflowing,  and 
the  expression  more  sad  than  he 
had  ever  seen  it;  but  he  was  certain 
that  her  lips  moved  and  that  he 
even  heard  the  words  spoken: 

[23] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

"Weep  not  for  me,  but  for  your- 
self." The  expression  on  the 
Christ's  face  also  contained  a  re- 
proach. Dear  God!  What  mortal 
hand  could  offer  Him  indignities! 


unconscious,  the  little 
painter  continued  his  arrange- 
ments for  the  morrow.  Then  the 
artist  in  him  returned,  and  he 
regarded  the  canvas  before  him 
with  professional  joy: 

"Bellissima!"  he  exclaimed.  "I 
alone  could  do  it  justice.  Bellis- 
sima!" 

He  approached  nearer  to  the 
painting  and  placed  his  finger  upon 
it.  Fofo  sprang  with  clenched 
hands  from  his  hiding-place,  for- 

[24] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

getful  of  all  save  that  an  impious 
touch  had  desecrated  the  cheek  of 
his  blessed  Lady;  but  the  eyes  of 
the  Madonna  shot  stern,  compel- 
ling glances  at  her  self-appointed 
protector,  and  Fofo  slunk  back, 
abashed.  He  was  glad  that  the 
little  painter's  hand  concealed  the 
expression  on  his  Lady's  face,  for 
he  felt  that  he  could  not  have 
endured  the  full  strength  of  her 
reproach. 

TROM  that  day  Fofo  became 
more  and  more  concerned  in  watch- 
ing his  master.  Once  when,  in 
the  performance  of  his  duties,  he 
was  in  the  apartments  of  the  Mar- 
quis, he  was  obliged  to  make  his 

[25] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

escape  furtively,  lest  the  padrone 
should  raise  his  bowed  head  sud- 
denly, and  become  aware  that  a 
menial  had  been  admitted  to  the 
sacred  intimacy  of  his  suffering. 
Visitors  came  now  from  time  to 
time  to  the  palazzo,  but  they  were 
strangers  rather  than  friends,  and 
Fofo  heard  them  speak  to  the 
Marquis  in  tones  of  such  severity 
that  he  was  amazed.  They  must 
be  great  men  indeed  to  do  this, 
greater  than  the  master,  or  they 
would  not  so  have  dared. 

IT  was  usually  before  these  strange 
visitors  arrived  or  just  after  they 
had  departed  that  the  Marquis 
bowed  his  head  upon  the  writing 

[26] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

desk  in  the  library,  and  Fofo  learned 
to  avoid  going  to  this  room  at  such 
times.  The  master  paced  the  floor 
for  hours  together,  and  Fofo  several 
times  heard  the  word  rovina  wrung 
from  the  soul  of  the  Marquis  as 
by  relentless  hands.  The  word  be- 
wildered him.  What  had  "ruin" 
to  do  with  the  House  of  Orcagna? 
Could  it  be  that  the  Donna  Giulia's 
sposo  had  fallen  into  difficulties, 
even  with  the  princely  dote  which 
the  Marquis  had  given?  Had  the 
padrone  himself  been  unfortunate 
on  the  Bourse,  or  taken  too  many 
tickets  in  the  lotto?  These  were 
questions  he  might  ask  himself 
alone;  he  could  not  trouble  the 
blessed  Madonna,  —  particularly 

[27] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

now  that  she  herself  was  suffering 
in  noble  silence  the  great  indignity 
of  being  counterfeited. 

1  HE  picture  upon  the  little 
painter's  easel  advanced  day  by 
day.  Fof6  could  have  told  how 
many  strokes  the  brush  had  made 
each  afternoon  when  the  shadows 
gathered  and  forced  the  artist  to 
lay  aside  his  palette,  and  to  wrap 
his  canvas  round  about  with  the 
white  sheet,  -  -  the  shroud  of  Fofo's 
dear  Lady.  Yet  the  light  was 
strong  enough,  after  the  painter 
had  departed,  for  Fofo  to  unwind 
the  cloth  and  stand  sadly  before 
the  picture,  turning  from  time  to 
time  to  the  blessed  original. 

[28] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

JLjATE  one  afternoon  the  boy 
stealthily,  and  with  an  expression 
of  guilt  on  his  pallid  face,  drew  a 
long,  narrow  knife  from  under  his 
blouse.  With  his  eyes  held  stead- 
fastly away  from  the  Madonna, 
he  made  a  vicious  slash  at  the 
picture  upon  the  easel.  He  knew 
well  that  he  stood  too  far  from  the 
canvas  to  strike  it,  but  even  though 
the  sharp  blade  encountered  no 
resistance,  the  act  in  itself  gave 
him  joy.  For  several  nights,  lying 
awake  on  his  straw  mattress,  he 
had  imagined  himself  cutting  the 
picture  into  strips,  and  today  he 
had  secreted  the  knife  upon  his 
person  before  going  to  the  chapel. 

129] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

A.FTER  the  single  stroke  through 
the  air,  Fofo  turned  belligerently 
toward  the  Madonna,  yet  his  eyes 
refused  to  meet  hers  fairly.  "Why 
may  I  not  destroy  it?"  he  de- 
manded rebelliously.  "See,  donna 
beata,  with  one  blow  of  this  knife 
I  can  undo  his  work  forever." 
Fofo  knew  what  the  answer  was, 
even  before  he  looked  into  the 
sweetly  restraining  expression  on 
her  face. 

"It  is  something  like  you,"  he 
reluctantly  admitted,  something 
within  him  demanding  that  he 
be  just.  "The  piccolo  diavolo  has 
skill,  —  yet  he  paints  only  what 
he  sees." 

[30] 


THE   MADONNA    of  SACRIFICE 

1  HEN  the  strain  of  these  days 
and  nights  proved  too  strong  for 
him.  Dropping  the  sheet,  he  threw 
himself  before  his  Lady,  his  body 
torn  with  the  violent  coughing 
brought  on  by  his  convulsive  weep- 
ing: 

"Oh,  Madonna  santissima,"  he 
cried,  "oh,  bellissima,  why  has  the 
master  consented  to  this  awful 
crime?  Why  has  the  dear  Christ 
permitted  the  master  to  consent? 
Even  though  the  little  painter  can- 
not paint  what  he  does  not  see, 
even  though  the  sweet  eyes  fade 
when  he  looks  at  them,  and  the 
blessed  lips  lose  their  smile,  —  still 
the  crime  of  it!  Let  me  destroy 

[31] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

the  canvas,  let  me  kill  the  piccolo 
diavolo,  so  that  the  padrone  by  my 
deed  may  be  brought  to  realize." 

Jr  OFO  could  have  sworn  that  the 
saintly  arms  unfolded,  and  that 
the  beloved  hands  rested  lightly 
upon  his  head.  He  dared  not  look 
up  lest  he  lose  some  detail  of  the 
miracle,  yet  it  served  to  comfort 
him.  Weeping  still,  he  turned  from 
the  Madonna,  carefully  replaced 
the  sheet  about  the  canvas  as  he 
had  found  it,  and  returned  to  his 
evening  duties. 


ON 


the  following  day  a  most 
unusual  event  occurred.  A  visitor 
was  announced  to  the  Marquis, 

[32] 


THE   MADONNA   O/  SACRIFICE 

and  instead  of  bowing  his  head 
upon  the  table  in  the  library  the 
master  held  it  erect,  even  though  a 
strange  expression  crossed  his  face, 
and  he  said,  "At  last ! "  The  visitor 
was  an  Americano,  molto  impor- 
tante,  Fofo  heard  the  master  say, 
and  with  him  came  another  man, 
who  spoke  French,  and  seemed  to 
be  the  guide  of  the  Americano. 

"We  have  come  to  see  it,"  the 
Frenchman  said,  almost  before  the 
greetings  had  been  spoken;  and 
in  an  aside  to  the  Marquis  he 
whispered,  "All  is  arranged." 

1  HEN  occurred  the  extraordinary 
event.  The  Marquis  begged  his 
visitors  to  take  a  glass  of  wine 

[33] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

with  him  in  his  library  before  going 
to  the  cappella,  and  as  they  pre- 
ceded him  on  the  stairway  the 
master  fell  behind,  and  motioned 
Fofo  to  him. 

"Tell  that  miserable  painter  to 
leave  at  once  and  to  take  every- 
thing of  his  from  the  cappella,  — 
everything,  do  you  understand? 
And  come  to  me  when  it  is  done." 

V  OFO  flew  rather  than  ran  to 
the  chapel,  and  with  a  joy  never 
before  his  own,  ordered  the  piccolo 
diavolo  to  depart  with  a  force  and 
air  belonging  only  to  one  vested 
with  authority.  "At  last!"  the 
master  had  said.  At  last  he  had 
come  to  realize,  and  Fofo  had  been 

134  J 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

made  the  instrument!  That  the 
little  painter  failed  to  comprehend 
the  meaning  of  the  strange  com- 
mands, given  him  by  this  boy  whom 
he  had  considered  so  far  beneath 
him,  mattered  nothing  to  Fofo; 
the  fact  that  he  did  not  obey  was 
everything.  The  padrone  had  given 
him  authority  to  offset  his  waning 
strength,  so  the  piccolo  diavolo  must 
yield.  The  struggle  was  brief,  and 
Fofo  triumphantly  turned  the  great 
key  to  the  one  cell  the  cappella 
possessed,  —  until  now  long  unused 
for  prayer  and  meditation.  The 
easel  was  quickly  removed,  and  the 
box  of  colors  followed  it  behind 
the  heavy  tapestries.  With  feverish 
excitement  Fofo  restored  the  prie- 

[35] 


THE   MADONNA   of   SACRIFICE 

Dieu  to  its  wonted  position,  and 
reverently  lifted  back  the  Ecce 
Homo.  He  was  obliged  to  pause 
two  or  three  times,  until  the  sharp 
pain  passed  from  him,  but  the  joy 
of  living  had  returned.  Gratefully 
he  sank  on  his  knees  before  his 
blessed  Lady. 

"  Our  suffering  is  over,  beatissima. 
The  padrone  has  awakened.  The 
dear  Christ  has  spoken." 

Then  he  returned  to  his  master. 

"Shall  we  descend  to  the  cap- 
pella?"  the  Marquis  graciously 
asked  his  visitors,  and  they  arose 
at  once. 

1  HE  dignified  figure  of  the  Mar- 
quis led  the  way  down  the  broad 

[36] 


THE   MADONNA    of  SACRIFICE 

flight  of  steps,  and  through  the 
dim  corridor  which  opened  into 
the  chapel.  No  word  was  spoken 
until  some  moments  after  the  three 
men  stood  before  the  Madonna  of 
Sacrifice.  It  was  the  Frenchman 
who  broke  the  silence,  speaking 
to  the  Americano: 

"Is  it  not  all  I  promised  you?" 

"It  is  magnificent!" 

"In  part  it  is  my  life,"  the  Mar- 
quis said  with  bitterness.  "I  am 
relinquishing  my  flesh  and  blood, 
and  at  the  same  time  breaking  my 
country's  laws." 

The  Americano  looked  up  quickly. 
"Is  it  not  agreed?"  he  demanded. 

The  Marquis  bowed  his  head. 

"I   ask  no   man  to  do  for  me 

[37] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

what  is  contrary  to  his  own  wish 
or  judgment,"  the  Americano  con- 
tinued; "but  in  exchange  for  this  I 
give  in  part  what  represents  my  life. 
A  million  francs!  Is  it  not  a  fair 
equivalent?  I  understood".  .  .  . 

"It  is  agreed,"  the  Marquis  re- 
plied quickly,  but  his  voice  sounded 
like  that  of  another  in  the  ears  of 
his  little  acolyte,  standing  un- 
noticed in  the  rear  of  the  chapel. 

-F  OFO  watched  the  men  with- 
draw, but  stood  unmoved.  This, 
then,  was  the  purchaser  of  the 
counterfeit  of  his  dear  Lady,  — 
this  Americano,  molto  importante. 
But  could  it  be  —  yes;  though  he 
could  not  hear  all,  yet  he  had 

[38] 


THE   MADONNA    of  SACRIFICE 

distinctly  recognized  the  word, 
milione.  A  million  francs  for  the 
work  of  that  piccolo  diavolo,  who 
painted  all  he  saw,  yet  who  saw 
so  little!  Fofo's  respect  for  the 
little  painter  was  mightily  in- 
creased, none  the  less,  as  he 
unlocked  the  door  to  the  cell,  per- 
mitting the  unwilling  prisoner  again 
to  enjoy  his  freedom.  He  watched 
him  cautiously  work  his  way  to  a 
position  which  gave  a  clear  path 
to  the  door  leading  into  the  palazzo, 
whither  he  made  a  wild  dash,  as 
if  expecting  interference.  But  Fofo 
had  performed  the  task  the  padrone 
had  entrusted  to  him,  and  besides, 
his  body  asked  for  rest.  Presently 
the  painter  returned,  and  with 


THE   MADONNA    of   SACRIFICE 

him  was  the  Marquis.  All  had 
again  been  arranged,  Fofo  con- 
cluded, and  peace  restored,  as  the 
piccolo  diavolo  replaced  his  easel 
in  its  former  position,  moving 
away  the  prie-Dieu  and  the  Ecce 
Homo.  It  was  plain  that  he  had 
been  exhorted  to  hasten  in  his 
work,  for  he  moved  excitedly,  and 
had  no  eyes  except  for  his  picture 
and  the  beautiful  model. 

OUT  now  Fofo  understood,  and 
his  resentment  abated.  It  was  a 
crime,  of  course,  to  counterfeit  his 
blessed  Madonna,  but  when  an 
Americano  stood  ready  to  pay  a 
million  francs  by  way  of  atone- 
ment for  the  sacrilege,  Fofo  could 

[40] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

understand.  With  this  vast  sum 
the  master  could  make  up  any 
losses  he  might  have  suffered,  and 
he  would  give  a  part  of  it  to  the 
Church  by  way  of  expiation.  So 
now  he  bent  such  strength  as  still 
remained  to  serving  the  little 
painter,  where  before  he  had  ob- 
structed him,  even  though  he  re- 
ceived no  thanks  for  his  pains;  for 
in  this  way  the  work  would  sooner 
be  completed,  the  money  would 
be  paid  over  by  the  rich  Americano, 
the  padrone  would  again  be  happy, 
and  the  entire  household  restored 
to  its  former  decorum. 

-L-jACH  day  was  carrying  nearer 
to  completion  the  work  of  the 

[41] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

piccolo  diavolo.  For  some  time 
now,  even  though  Fofo's  poor  body 
responded  less  and  less  willingly 
to  his  spirit,  he  had  felt  that  the 
picture  was  ^finished,  but  the  artist 
returned  each  morning  and  added 
a  few  strokes  here,  or  made  some 
slight  alteration  there.  It  all 
seemed  a  needless  waste  of  time 
to  Fofo,  for  the  picture  looked  as 
much  like  the  blessed  Madonna 
as  it  ever  could,  and  he  was  im- 
patient to  have  it  all  over.  Each 
night  he  prayed  to  his  Lady  that 
the  morning  might  come  without 
the  little  painter's  return. 

I  ET  when  that  morning  arrived 
at  last,  and  his  prayer  was  answered, 

[42] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

Fofo  was  frankly  surprised.  He 
rubbed  his  eyes  briskly,  to  make 
sure  that  he  could  trust  his  sight, 
for  not  only  had  the  piccolo  diavolo 
disappeared,  but  all  that  had  to 
do  with  him  as  well.  The  counter- 
feit of  the  Madonna,  the  easel  on 
which  it  had  rested,  the  little 
painter's  box  of  colors,  —  all  were 
gone.  And  most  astonishing  of 
all,  the  prie-Dieu  and  the  Ecce 
Homo  had  been  restored  to  their 
original  positions  without  his  assist- 
ance. At  first  he  was  filled  with 
vague  foreboding,  but  then  he 
realized  that  it  was  the  padrone's 
thoughtful  care  for  him.  The  mas- 
ter then  had  noticed  that  Fofo's 
strength  had  waned  during  these 

[43] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

last  few  weeks;  even  with  all  his 
own  cares  and  worries,  he  had 
taken  notice,  and  had  spared  him 
the  mortification  of  finding  that 
the  Ecce  Homo  had  grown  too 
heavy  for  him  to  lift.  The  dull 
red  spots  in  Fofd's  cheeks  grew 
deeper,  and  he  smiled,  —  the  first 
smile  which  had  come  to  his  lips 
for  months.  With  the  padrone's 
interest  and  the  sweet  Madonna's 
protection,  naught  could  come  to 
him  now  but  good,  and  his  pain 
would  pass  away. 

JL  ERHAPS  it  was  this  happiness, 
surging  through  his  blood,  which 
brought  on  the  fresh  paroxysm, 
convulsing  the  frail  body,  and 

[44] 


THE   MADONNA    of  SACRIFICE 

delaying  the  gratification  of  his  im- 
mediate impulse  to  share  his  new- 
found joy  with  his  blessed  Lady. 
Even  though  the  crimson  spot  he 
found  upon  his  handkerchief,  when 
he  removed  it  from  his  mouth, 
was  larger  than  usual,  yet  he  paid 
little  heed,  for  the  pain  had  ceased. 
It  seemed  a  long  distance  now  from 
where  he  stood  to  his  accustomed 
place  at  the  foot  of  the  picture, 
but  Fofo  dragged  his  tired  body, 
supporting  himself  by  resting  his 
hand  upon  the  heavy  carved  chairs 
and  the  prie-Dieu.  Then  he  sank 
in  a  shrunken  heap  on  the  spot 
where  he  had  so  often  knelt. 

"Oh,   Madonna  beatissima"  he 
cried,    weakly   yet    joyfully,    "we 

[45] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

must  forgive  the  padrone,  you  and 
I,  for  the  rich  Americano  could  not 
be  denied.  It  is  true  that  he  has 
carried  away  with  him  the  counter- 
feit, but  we  cannot  blame  him  for 
wanting  it  so  much.  It  cannot 
speak  to  him,  nor  comfort  him,  as 
you  have  spoken  and  comforted 
the  beautiful  Donna  Giulia,  and 
the  padrone  and  the  poor  Fofo,  but 
he  thinks  it  will  and  he  does  not 
know.  And  the  master  is  kind 
and  good  to  me,  even  as  you  are, 
Madonna  beatissima." 

IT  required  a  longer  time  than 
usual  for  Fofo  to  say  all  this,  and 
it  was  more  difficult  for  him  to 
raise  his  head  to  receive  the  Ma- 

[46] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

donna's  answer,  but  at  length  his 
eyes  looked  into  hers.  For  a  long 
moment  they  rested  there,  dilating 
more  and  more  with  fear  and  appre- 
hension. For  the  first  time  no 
answer  came  back.  The  Ma- 
donna's eyes  were  dull,  the  lips 
were  silent. 

"Santa  Maria!"    Fofo  moaned; 
"  I  have  offended  my  blessed  Lady ! " 

llE  gazed  long  at  the  picture,  his 
face  becoming  more  and  more  dis- 
torted by  his  grief,  but  his  heart 
still  hoping  for  a  response  which 
should  prove  his  fears  unwarranted. 
"I  have  offended  the  Madonna 
beatissima  by  helping  the  piccolo 
diavolo,"  he  continued;  "I  have 

[47] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

shared  his  crime,  and  this  is  my 
punishment.  0  Gesu!  0,  the  dear 
Christ,  plead  with  her  to  forgive 
me  and  to  give  me  back  her  love!" 

_T  ROM  sheer  weakness  the  boy 
collapsed  at  the  foot  of  the  picture, 
moaning  incoherently.  At  length, 
exerting  almost  superhuman  effort, 
he  raised  himself  to  his  knees.  He 
glanced  at  the  face  of  the  Madonna 
with  timid  hope,  but,  groaning, 
held  his  arm  before  his  eyes  to  shut 
out  the  unrelenting  visage. 

"  She  will  not  forgive !"  he  cried, 
prostrating  himself  upon  the  cold 
stones.  "The  sin  is  too  great. 
Yet  Fof6  did  not  know.  0  San- 
tissima,  I  would  have  killed  the 

[48] 


THE   MADONNA    of  SACRIFICE 

piccolo  diavolo.  I  would  have  cut 
the  counterfeit  into  one  strip  for 
each  franc  the  Americano  offered, 
but  Fofo  did  not  understand.  Now 
it  is  too  late,  too  late!" 

11  IS  agony  took  complete  con- 
trol, but,  as  the  moments  passed, 
he  seemed  to  become  more  calm. 
"Forgive,  forgive!"  he  faintly  mur- 
mured,—  "Fof6  did  not  under- 
stand." For  the  last  time  he  raised 
himself,  directing  his  dimmed  eyes 
toward  the  frame  which  had  always 
enclosed  his  Madonna.  There  was 
no  hope  in  his  face  now,  yet.  there 
was  a  compelling  force  to  look  once 
more,  however  terrifying  the  experi- 
ence, at  the  one  figure  which  had 

[49] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

been  his  daily  guide.  But  now  his 
gaze  appeared  to  be  fixed  upon 
something  higher  than  the  picture 
above  the  altar,  even  requiring  him 
to  turn  his  face  upwards,  as  if  look- 
ing through  the  very  roof  of  the 
chapel  itself.  Gradually  the  pain 
disappeared  from  the  emaciated 
features,  and  the  terror  was  re- 
placed by  a  smile  so  radiant  that 
the  slight  figure  seemed  already  a 
part  of  another  world. 

Jr  ERHAPS  saintly  angels  rolled 
back  the  grisly  stones  on  which  the 
heavy  rafters  rested,  as  they  had, 
centuries  before,  rolled  away  those 
before  the  tomb  of  the  dear  Christ. 
When  the  Marquis,  hours  later, 

[50] 


THE   MADONNA   of  SACRIFICE 

found  what  he  thought  was  Fofo, 
lying  at  the  foot  of  the  counter- 
feited picture,  perhaps  the  little 
acolyte  had  really  found  the  true 
Madonna,  who  is  beyond  the  price 
even  of  a  rich  Americano.  Perhaps 
it  was  she  who  smiled  upon  him 
even  then. 


[51] 


